


Waiting For The Punchline

by kastron (decidueye)



Category: Leverage, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/kastron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers walked into a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For The Punchline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Telaryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/gifts).



> Written as a gift for Telaryn, and ties in with her [Hero and the Bad Boy](http://archiveofourown.org/series/33289) series.

Steve Rogers walked into a bar.

It wasn’t McRory’s – that was the first place he’d visited, almost a year ago now. He’d found a room full of protective glares and zipped lips.

Since then, he’d been using his leave to visit places like it under the guise of revisiting old haunts. The excuse meant that the other Avengers would leave him to it, for once respecting his privacy, and it provided an opportunity for him to have the conversation he’d been planning alone.

That was, so long as he could actually find the man he was looking for.

Nathan Ford, modern day Robin Hood and the only man to successfully orchestrate a hack into Stark Industries (even after Quinn had recognised them, and that’s really saying something), worked as a ghost. Steve had been trying to catch up with him since the New Year when he’d been given the slip, but he was always weeks behind. He didn’t like to chase rumours, but that was all he had to go on, particularly when Leverage International’s clients were always on the defensive.

_“I just want to talk to him.” Steve had pleaded earnestly with the agent, doing his best not to pull rank. “He’s not in trouble. All I need is a location – you can give me that, right?”_

_“I’m sorry, Captain Rogers; they’re impossible to track. Just because I’ve dealt with them before doesn’t mean I have any clue how they operate. I’m sure you understand.” Agent McSweeten shrugged sympathetically, and then paused, his expression hardening. “Besides, even if I knew, I’m not sure that I would tell you. They’re good people, Captain, and the world’s a better place while they’re free in it.”_

So Steve Rogers kept walking into bars, buying one drink and making it last for hours as he waited, scanning the rooms for any signs of desperate clients or the criminals whose files he knew by heart. This one, Molly’s, was already preparing for Christmas, a tree in the corner and carols playing softly in the background. It made Steve uncomfortable – Christmas was a disconcerting time for him, torn between the enthusiasm his mother had encouraged in him and the memory of so many years celebrated with people long dead – and he was ready to leave after the first hour, when he heard the sound of the door opening and a soft voice calling his name.

“Captain.” Steve turned to find Ford watching him, a small smile on his face. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

“Mr. Ford.” Steve pulled himself up from the barstool with a nod and an appraisal. “For some time. I was under the impression that news travelled faster, these days.”

“Oh, it does.” Ford agreed. “I just thought it might be time I gave you what you wanted. Holiday spirit, you know.”

“You’re alone?”

Ford nodded. “I didn’t think you just wanted me to have the honour of being arrested by a superhero. Still, I’d appreciate it if we kept this public, and Sophie knows what to do if I’m not there in the morning.”

“Talk.” Steve said, hands raised peaceably. “That’s all.”

“I know.” Ford quirked his head towards a table in the corner. “Shall we?”

He gestured towards the bar as they walked over, and by the time Steve was seated there were two drinks on the table. He picked up the one closest to him and sniffed cautiously.

“Just soda.” Ford told him. “I’ve done my research; figured that whiskey might not work as an ice breaker. I’m having the same.”

“Thanks.” Steve replied, grateful for the consideration. He took a sip, and then frowned at the table, fingers drumming thoughtfully. He’d been in pursuit of Nathan Ford for so long that when the man was sat in front of him he couldn’t think of where to begin. Ford spoke first, as if sensing his discomfort.

“How’s our mutual friend?” He asked, and Steve looked up, surprised at the question. He grimaced, struggling for a response: Clint’s business was nobody’s but his own, and he didn’t really want to divulge all of the complicated details of his friend’s personal life. Then again, Ford did have an investment of his own.

“Quinn’s…fine.” He said after a moment’s hesitation. “Things have been rough lately, but they’re working on it. And he’s good at his job.”

“Last time we heard from him he was asking Eliot whether he might be able to provide a place to stay.” Ford supplied, and Steve winced. “We guessed that no news was good news, though – Natasha would have told him if we had to be worried.”

“She would have.” Steve responded firmly. “Quinn’s a friend, too, you know. We aren’t going to leave him hanging.”

“He turned down a place on our team to be with your man.” Ford commented, and his words were nonchalant but Steve could sense the threat behind them. “He wouldn’t be alone.”

“Noted.” Steve smiled to show his sincerity, and Ford gave a small, amused huff.

“Good. Now, why is it you’ve been chasing me?”

Steve hesitated, watching Ford’s knowing expression carefully. The mastermind had the kind of face that left Steve’s fingers itching to draw; worn by experience, yet constantly animated. Always thinking, always ten steps ahead. He’d hate to see what a Ford-Stark combination would result in.

Then again, maybe he wouldn’t.

“You know your team is pretty high up on SHIELD’s watch list?” Steve began, taking care to keep his tone light. “They consider you a threat.”

“Thank you.” Ford took it as the compliment it was, and then, “And you?”

“SHIELD considers Bruce Banner to be a threat, as well.” Steve commented. “And myself. It’s objective, don’t you think?”

“Sounds to me like it just depends whether or not you’re receiving their paycheck.” Ford remarked, and Steve held back a snort.

“More or less. Doesn’t stop them wanting to put trackers in you, though. Anyway, I came here because I wanted to make my own assessment.”

Steve met Ford’s gaze evenly, and the conman raised an eyebrow. “You don’t trust your organisation?”

“I can’t go into details, but they haven’t given me much of a reason to. I trust people, not concepts, Ford.”

“Nate.” He corrected smoothly. “We may as well be on first name basis if you’re suggesting what I think you are – and I’m rarely wrong.”

Steve held his hands up in surrender, smiling. “I’m not suggesting anything… Nate. I just want to know what you stand for, and whether or not we can have each other’s backs. A friend of mine once said to me ‘regimes fall every day’, and I need to believe that there’ll be a system in place if that should happen. People who believe in _people_ , no matter what they’ve been doing previously.”

“What I stand for? That would take more than a couple of drinks to discuss,” Nate replied idly, “and in all honesty I’m not certain I’m willing to share with you just yet.”

“But we can keep in touch?”

“We can trade favours, perhaps.” Nate stood, reaching for the jacket hanging on the back of the chair and giving Steve a final glance. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Nate left, and Steve finished his drink with the sinking feeling that he would never come out of one of these encounters feeling like he’d won.


End file.
